Thanks so much to Madame Tango and usualguest for reviewing and messaging me! Made my day to a couple people so quickly on board with a new fic outside my typical fandom.

Head's up, this story is going to pretty high on my personal scale for erotica. Not quite The Mikaelsons, but just a small step below that. This will be an adventure fic with a lot of serious lemons. That's not quite starting yet ;) but this chapter should give you a glimpse into what to expect in small dosages.

Next up: Update on Wrecked is coming soon (Possibly instantly? At least very soon.) after this. No coincidence there… similar premise and all. Well, not exactly but, you know, shipwrecked feisty ladies and all that. Let's proceed to what Hook makes of Margot's feistiness.

Chapter 2

They truly hadn't seen much in the skies these past few days since the war started. Pan was typically too smart to be caught unawares when he was in his element, the fairies rarely flew with him ever since Tinkerbell had disappeared, and he hadn't brought back any new lost boys in ages. Current lost boys were only allotted the fairy dust to fly on very special occasions and wartime was hardly one of them. No, it was more likely that Pan had his ranks working on crafting more ridiculous weapons — those stupid blinding suits made out of mirrors and the like, or guns that shot marbles.

So, leaving his deck crew with the orders, Hook set out for the island with a few men to go investigate. Of course, within the course of the early morning they'd found nothing so Hook had ultimately ordered his men to head back to the ship.

And it was on the row back that Smee had suddenly startled and began to point at something falling through the sky shortly after a shot rang out from the ship. Whatever it was that was falling… looked suspiciously like a Wendy-bird.

Luckily whatever, whoever it was, had fallen very near Hook's returning rowboat. Friend or enemy — almost certainly an enemy, to that end — he wanted hand and hook on the intruder first. It took just seconds to row to where she'd fallen and Hook thrust his good hand into the water in search of this person.

"Help me hoist her up lads!" Hook bellowed behind him, already recognizing the shape of the figure sinking below him as a woman's. His order was too hastily given though, as he had her pulled over the side of the small boat and slammed back onto the wood just a second later without need of help.

She was well enough alive, he could see right away — bedraggled and dripping and hacking and spitting, but alive. Most peculiarly, she was wearing barely but a scrap of silver fabric to cover herself and a pair of obviously fake fairy wings. Hook didn't know which perplexed him more. No one in their right mind would have believed for a second those wings made her a real fairy, so if that suggested any poor attempt at infiltration, the woman was clearly a fool.

The dress, however, if it could even be called that, was one of the most obscene things Hook had ever seen a woman wear. The whores at Neverland's small port likely would have blushed should the be asked to wear something similar. It was so short that it ended several inches above her knees. It was nearly strapless, except for two thin silver velvet threads criss crossing across her shoulders and back. And the material was so thin that one could almost make out her body in full beneath the fabric — particularly given how the slight material now clung to her whilst damp.

He couldn't think on it now, he realized though; not if he wanted to keep her alive for questioning. Using quite a bit of strength, he slammed his good hand onto her back hard, ensuring that the woman coughed up the remaining liquid clogging her lungs.

"There you go, girly!" he crowed when she began to breath again, inhaling ragged breaths, "If that fall didn't kill you, the water won't. Though you're lucky we got to you before the mermaids did."

If she'd heard him, she made no sign to acknowledge him. Instead she continued kneeling with her back towards him, coughing and heaving, trying very clearly not to vomit. Hook raised his hand again to hit her back and exhume the remaining fluid from her lungs but a quick warning from Smee stopped him.

"Careful of her wings, Cap'n!" he said.

Finally the girl seemed to perk up, "They're not real… c-costume," she managed to choke out.

Ah, so these ridiculous sparkly things weren't an attempt to infiltrate the island. Whyever else would she be wearing them, then?

"Of course they're not real, Smee!" Hook chastised his bo'sun, "When in God's name have you seen a human-sized fairy?"

And almost immediately after he'd said that, the girl had passed out in his rowboat, slumping backwards onto his boots and allowing him a good look at her face for the first time.

A woman she was indeed, not a girl. The way her bosom swelled up beneath that grey sheath was proof of that enough. Tendrils of her long wet hair, now a dark blonde, wrapped pleasantly around her fair face and cleavage. The cold of the water had been enough to make her nipples pucker deliciously beneath the thin fabric… and Hook clearly wasn't the only one to have noticed. The other few crew members on the rowboat with him were leering at her unconscious form with malicious grins. Hook sneered in return.

"Eyes ahead, scoundrels. We must return to the Jolly Roger and, there, I will question this intruder myself," he said, his voice dark enough to make his men snap to the command without hesitancy.

He looked down at her sleeping form again as they rowed. Hell's hounds she was beautiful but… but quite familiar.

"How did she even arrive here, I wonder?" Hook questioned aloud, but primarily rhetorically.

"A fairy was carrying her, Cap'n," Smee answered anyway, "The real kind, a tiny one."

Immediately, the Captain's head whipped about, searching the skies for one of the angry little beings.

"She's not here anymore," Smee said, as his Captain searched the skies fruitlessly. "She flew off the moment the cannon shot this one down. Haven't seen the thing since."

Hook growled and looked down again to his new charge. He'd have to question her about this first thing. The Neverland fairies were mostly impartial in this new war but, if they favored anyone's side… it was Pan's.

If Margot was dead, Starshimmer was heartbroken for it. In nearly a trance, she'd watched her beautiful niece fall into the ocean below… but her sense of self-preservation was too high to wait around for long and she'd flown off at near warp speed to make it safely back into Neverland's woods. If Margot, was alive, after all, Starshimmer would need to remain so as well in order to get her back from the pirates.

Sure enough, watching from a safe distance ashore, Star squirmed when she saw the lecherous Captain Hook dragging Margot aboard his rowboat making it's way back to the Jolly Roger. She had to get her back. If Margot was going to be key to stopping this war, she needed to realize who she was and learn her place amongst the fairies. Nothing good could come from her being held hostage by that awful Hook.

She had two choices. The first was to go to Peter and recruit his help to get his daughter back. But that was the crux of the problem, Peter didn't know he had a daughter, much less one that was ten years his senior in appearance. Somehow, it just didn't feel like her secret to tell? Starshimmer had assumed that Margot would know who her father was but apparently she'd let the cat out of the bag there too. Now it seemed Margot was even less likely to believe the truth of it. She wasn't anxious to repeat the mistake.

Which brought her to her second option, she could attempt to bargain win Hook himself. She'd honestly never even met the infamous Captain — dueling with him had really been more her sister's deal and, boy, what Star wouldn't give to have Tink's advice on dealing with the villain now…

To make it apparent that his charge was not to be touched — nay, even looked at — Hook had carried the unconscious woman in his own arms across the Jolly Roger's deck to his private quarters. Typically, a prisoner would have more likely been immediately dragged behind him, bound, on their way to the brig.

Although, to be sure, Hook couldn't decide whether or not he should bind her. Currently all he knew about this captive was that she couldn't fly, appeared half-drunk, and was not adept at the art of disguise. And while this seemed to dictate that she was a far less than worthy opponent, Hook wasn't one to underestimate an adversary he hadn't battled yet.

That and, yes the thought of her ivory skin all trussed up as she lay on his black silk sheets was admittedly very appealing. He couldn't sidetrack himself with thoughts like that, though. In all his years in Neverland, James Hook had never met an intruder that ended up on his side. He didn't need some sumptuous lips and entrancing silken skin that urged him to gently run hook and hand up to the apex of her thighs… to blind him while Pan daggered him from behind. No, that'd be terribly bad form.

So, tying her up would be out of the question.

"Open the door, Smee," Hook barked out, almost casually, "And get a fire started."

"Aye, Cap," the portly bo'sun replied, shutting the door to the Captain's apartment behind the three of them, knowing full well that he was the only member of the crew that'd ever be trusted in here.

Hook strode ahead and lay the sleeping girl with a surprising gentleness onto his great bed. Immediately Hook disliked just how much he appreciated the site of her there. As he had the thought, the woman's head lolled further backwards onto his pillows and her eyes just barely parted in bleary almost-unconsciousness.

Her eyes were blue — not like his, light blue, like a perfect summer sky in Neverland — and they ever so faintly shimmered, like hidden behind their daylight haze lay a blanket of stars. It was, momentarily, bewitching but he was snapped back to reality when he remembered he'd seen that gaze before. But a deal with devil wouldn't have helped him remember… blast Neverland, how it made you forget!

Abruptly he turned around to sink into his desk massaging his forehead with his good hand, refusing to look at the woman lying in his bed until he had another stiff drink in him.

"Smee, get me some rum, bring the bottle," he ordered while his first-mate finished off started a warm fire in the large elegant fireplace, "And then... check her over. Make sure she isn't injured."

Smee turned around in shock, stumbling a bit as he did. "Me, Cap'n? Isn't she… uh, isn't she, well-"

"-Stop stuttering, man, isn't she my what?"

Smee had been on the cusp of simply asking 'Isn't she yours?' but thought better of it at the last moment and mollified, "Isn't she your prisoner?"

"Aye, she is. What does that have to do with anything?" Hook bit back, growling harshly, daring the man to push this further.

Smee could have rolled his eyes. He'd known James Hook since the lad was just over 20 years of age. And though his Captain was now a gentleman of possibly 35 — though who knew how much time had passed since they'd first come to Neverland, everyone stop aging here and Smee knew deep down that they'd been on this ship for well over 15 years — he apparently hadn't matured in some respects. Almost like Peter Pan, he didn't want to admit that he was attracted to this woman.

"We don't normally check to see if our prisoners is hurt is all," Smee huffed, fetching the requested rum and taking it to Hook.

Hook smirked distractedly, "Then perhaps you didn't notice but this our first full-fledged woman aboard ship. Even Wendy Darling was merely a nasty little child, as worthless as Pan and his Lost Boys," he replied. "My reputation as an alumni of Eton would surely tarnish if I didn't do my best to respect a true lady."

Smee really did have to roll his eyes this time. Woman or not, lady was not the word he'd use to describe a woman that chose to dress so obscenely. He was reminded further of this fact when he turned back to the bed where she lay, arms flailed about as if she was still falling. Maybe not a lady but inarguably beautiful.

Hook noticed his hesitation; taking the opportunity to turn the tables, he said, "For God's sake, Smee, just look her over. You're old enough to be her grandfather, surely this shouldn't be a problem."

As much as Smee respected his Captain, he was sorely tempted to make a rude gesture over his shoulder. Even he didn't trust not to kill him, though, so he just took the woman's wrist in his hand, checking the strength of her pulse.

Hook watched the man work tenderly as he gently brushed through her hair, searching for any sign of a wound or concussion. Fuck, he'd asked Smee to do this honestly because he wasn't sure he could trust himself to do so. Not that he thought he'd ever harm a woman — no, even Hook had his limits as a gentleman — he didn't need more parts of this woman emblazoning themselves into the backs of his eyes so that he couldn't even escape her when they were closed. But when Smee lifted her torso from the bed to press an ear against the bare skin of her back, listening to her breathing, potent and undeniable jealousy spread through his bones like wildfire.

"Well, how does she look, then?!" Hook barked, his tone holding an undeniable warning. Times up. He followed off the question / order by topping off his glass of rum and knocking it back quickly.

More than sufficiently annoyed with his Captain now, Smee immediately stepped away and turned back to answer, "She looks fine to me, Cap'n, just reeks of liquor overtop of the saltwater. She ain't got anymore fluid in her lungs so she shouldn't get the pee-mon-ya," he tried pathetically to pronounce, "Looks like she's just sleeping off the drink. Maybe still in shock from the fall."

Hook nodded, finding these results agreeable, "Alright, Smee, leave us be. I don't want to be disturbed. I'll fetch you if I need anything further, understood?"

"Aye, Cap'n!" Smee saluted.

Hook responded in kind with his good hand, "Dismissed."

When the door shut behind Smee, James finally chanced another look at the passed out beauty in his bed. She stirred, ever so slightly, but did not wake.

She'd better wake up soon, Hook decided. The Captain was not a patient man.

Gratefully, it was less than one and a half glasses of rum later — nothing for a rum pro like Hook — that Margot finally began to wake for real. And after looking around his cabin for a suitable amount of time to gain her bearings, Hook was shocked — and more than a little pleased, in a very unusual way — to find that out of all the things in his room she'd seen, she seemed not a'tall afraid of him.

Hook was momentarily lost again, in the strange beguiling blue of her eyes, but she was quick to engage him and snap him out of it. She'd wanted to know where she was of course, but hadn't put in any fight against giving up her name first.

"Margot Belle," she said. He'd liked the sound of it so much that he'd had to repeat it himself. He wanted to say it again and again.

Now Belle, though, that sounded very familiar. She'd said with just the tiniest hint of a French emphasis but still… It couldn't be coincidence, could it? In the midst of Neverland's greatest war?

Either way, she began to get rapidly more frantic — growing seemingly hell bent on persuading herself that everything was fine and she knew exactly where she was.

And then, she'd come very near to shocking him when she'd asked, "Did we fuck?"

The sinful word popping so easily from her plump cherry lips actually did the damage of making his breeches tighten. Luckily she began prattling on again far too quickly to notice. He could only understand bits of whatever she was on about — Miss Belle used a strange vernacular and possessed an equally strange accent that he could not place to any port he'd ever visited.

Before he had time to even start another question, she was trying to make her way out to the main deck, ignoring his ardent urges.

When Margot stepped out, her hand flew to her open mouth as she let out a disbelieving little squeak. She was certainly no where near the dreary early fall of England. She was standing on board an old-fashioned wooden ship in some humid, sunny, tropical paradise…

Immediately, the sound of dozens of sick whoops and catcalls erupted in front of her and she was then accosted by the site of the most literal motley collection of men she'd ever seen. Dirty grins, most missing teeth, grimy dreadlocks, and an assortment of nasty permanent injuries assaulted her vision as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. In truth, the shock of it all had her paralyzed to the spot.

A powerful shot going off perilously close to her right ear shook her to her senses as well as deep down into her bones. Margot felt herself physically begin to shake. Shit, not a good sign. Keep your head clear, girl.

"Shut up, worthless dogs!" a harsh voice growled, instantly silencing the men but not halting their leering.

Standing next to her, James noticed the girl was shaking but resisted the urge to pull her into him while everyone was still watching. If he needed to mark her as his own for her safety — she could be valuable, after all, he hadn't decided without speaking to her — he would, but he didn't want to do so in a fashion that made him appear weak. James Hook did not comfort.

Instead, he wrenched her harshly by her upper arm, all but tossing her back into his cabin and slamming the door with a satisfying crack behind her.

Margot stumbled backwards, landing square on her ass, barely feeling it because she was still in so much shock. The mix of the feeling with her hangover made her stomach lurch violently and she promptly vomited all over the floor.

She heard the man named James — the Captain? Captain James Hook? Wait a minute… — shouting violently outside the door. Something about people remembering their place but, to be honest, she couldn't catch much of it over the sound of her own sick.

She was still dry heaving when the door swung open again and she heard the clack of his high leather boots coming to stand beside her.

"God's you've made yourself sick, I told you not to run out there like that," he said. He sounded annoyed — who wouldn't? — but with a sigh he knelt down next to her and held out a handkerchief. Margot accepted gratefully while he stood back up, calling out "Mister Smee!"

The little square of fabric was finely soft, something expensive, and had the initials J.H. sewn into it. Margot wiped her mouth, noting that it smelled heavenly of peppermint and cloves and was actually seeming to calm her head, and stomach, somewhat.

The door opened again and a dumpy little old man waddled through.

"Yes Cap'n?" he asked but then spied her sprawled out on the floor. His posture sagged, "Oh, I see. I'll get something, then."

He left just as promptly as he'd entered presumably to get cleaning supplies.

"Are you quite finished?" Hook asked, looking down at her again.

"Yeah, um, could you…?" she was reaching out a hand, asking for help standing up.

Hook scoffed. Silly woman, couldn't even manage to get herself off the floor! But suddenly she was surprising him when, instead of waiting for him to respond to her request, she simply grasped her hand carefully around his hook and hoisted herself up.

"Well…" Margot stumbled awkwardly, "That's in their good and tight."

By God's this woman was wanton… James found himself thinking but realized that she'd actually been referring to his hook when she continued to examine it curiously.

"So I take it this is as real as everything out there is?" Margot asked, her breathing finally evening out. Survival mode stage 1 complete: overcoming shock. Stage 2: assess health and establish one's bearings.

"Indeed," Hook replied, pulling the appendage away from her grasp when her hands started inspecting hire, reaching towards his arm. "Do you need to sit down, my dear Miss Belle? You seem to still be rather faint."

Margot frowned and crossed her arms. "I am not 'faint,'" she complained making air quotes. "I'm not some damsel in distress, I'm just hungover. I need something to drink..."

Hook reached around to his desk to grab the cup of run he'd been drinking earlier, handing it to her.

"Oh, thank god, thank you," she said, accepting it greedily and slurping it down without thinking. Instantly, her face pinched the same way her mother's did when something disgusted her. The drink burned and Margot very nearly gagged but managed to swallow. "For fuck's sake, was that rum? I meant water!"

"Oh," Hook replied, completely nonchalant, "Well, you should have specified."

"I needed to?!" she balked.

"On a pirate ship? Always," he said. "Mister Smee, fetch our guest some water."

Not that a little hair of the dog would be remiss, Margot figured. Still, she'd always had a distaste for rum.

The bo'sun, who'd already scrubbed up most of her mess looked up with the distinct expression of someone who was pretending not to have been listening. "Aye," he muttered quietly and walked over to the liquor cabinet to pull out Hook's personal supply of fresh water.

When he handed the glass to Margot, Hook murmured a soft "Leave us," watching in something akin to bewitchment as Margot hungrily chugged at the glass. She finished her drink and their eyes locked in a searing gaze. Every question Margot had been about to ask abruptly flew straight from her brain as she began to fully assess the dark man standing in front of her for the first time since she'd awoken.

The very visceral response her body was feeling to standing near him was enough to confirm that he was quite handsome. His long, loose curls black mass of hair and roguish facial hair were like something out of a fantastical dream. And something about his presence, posture, aurora… was so very viscerally and enticingly male. She could smell the same musk from his handkerchief from him, especially this close and it took some willpower not to lean further into it. Was it so wrong that she wanted to cover herself in that smell? Wrap it around herself writhe in it's silk?

The tiniest of quirks at the corner of his mouth — fuck his mustache was sexy — cued Margot into the fact that she'd been caught drinking him in. She'd been so distracted she hadn't noticed him doing the very same thing. Seeing her brazen gaze tempted Hook just enough to be a little less of a gentleman and more a typical pirate.

"See is you fell from the sky and directly into my path, madame, I should think we both have some questions for one another," James said, "But first, I believe we should address the need to find you something more suitable to cover yourself with… I'm afraid what you have on now is altogether very tempting…"

It took Margot a minute to find her voice, but she wasn't about to become a blushing mess in front of this man.

"Well," she replied smoothly, "That was the basic purpose of wearing it."

It was early morning in America when Tiffany was awoken by her phone ringing. Momentarily, she thought maybe her daughter was returning her call but when she answered, it was a distinctly British voice on the other end of the line.

It was Sarah, Margot's roommate.

She'd returned home from a Halloween party to find Margot missing. She'd left without her purse or shoes and Tiffany was going to need to fly to England immediately to speak with the police.

Tiffany's face blanched as the news was recounted to her. She'd known something bad was going to happen. She'd felt it in her gut for a week. God why hadn't she called Margot earlier?

But it wasn't until Sarah let a final detail drop that Tiff finally grew truly frightened.

When Sarah had returned to their dorm room, she'd found their window had been left wide open…

Tiff prayed it was only going to be England she'd be returning to.

Thoughts? On the right track? How soon does everyone expect smut? Please drop a note or follow!